


The Future That We Hold Is So Unclear

by LiterallyLen



Series: Tumblr Prompt Fills [2]
Category: American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Post-Reynolds Pamphlet, They love each other so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 06:10:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17503118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiterallyLen/pseuds/LiterallyLen
Summary: “You’re fucking courting my wife,” is the first thing he spits out, glaring at Monroe. (He supposes he should be marginally thankful that the German diplomat isn’t here yet, but he can’t even begin to care if he’s being at all honest.)“Oh, this should be fun,” Jefferson leers, chewing on his gross ass tobacco.“Hamilton,” Washington intones, a warning— One that Hamilton decidedly does not take.





	The Future That We Hold Is So Unclear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ilovepippasoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilovepippasoo/gifts).



> The beyond spectacular ILovePippaSoo (which btw my entire life summed up) prompted me "Things you said that I wish you hadn't" on Tumblr, so I gave her so much angst!! TYSM for being such a gem and actually commenting on my Fics babe!!! I really hope you like this! lmfao.
> 
>  
> 
> Oh and yes, i def got the title from a Selena Gomez song... No shame.

“Am I late,” Alexander, panting and disheveled, leans against an irritated Angelica’s desk, face wrinkled in a particularly indelicate way that only happens when she’s especially annoyed.

“Hamilton, I’m the White House chief of staff, not your personal secretary.”

“I got you a cake pop from Starbucks,” he swings the bag between them like an olive branch— smiles at how put upon she looks when she snags it and bites in.

“I keep telling you guys that I’m still dieting after Ricky,” angelica snipes with another bite.

“You’re gorgeous Ange,” he smiles— it’s the most agreeable she’s been towards him for months and he’s thankful for it.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever Hamilton. The German representative isn’t even here yet, so it’s just the others lounging around in their.”

“Thank God,” he sighs, kneeling down to start collecting his papers into the right order.

“Late morning?”

“Johnny wanted his green dinosaur shirt, but it’s in the wash, so I had to spend half an hour convincing’m that the red one ’s perfectly fine.”

“Hmm,” she takes a sip of her almond milk latte with the glint in her eyes that’s only ever proceeded by sharp words. “You know, I remember many a hazardous mornings with my darling sister when you were on the campaign trail and she had the brew all to herself.”

It only took her like five minutes to make him feel like crap this morning, Hamilton’s gotta give her props for holding back.

“Yeah Ange, I know. Thanks.”

“Anytime Hamilton.”

Alexander goes back to organizing his work, and Angelica clicks around on her computer, it’s weird how awkward it is between them now. They’d caught on like a house on fire when they first met, siblings in all but blood really. She was the one to tag team it with Peggy and convince Eliza that he was someone worth taking a chance on, and he was the one to cut through the sexism plaguing the West Wing, and insist on her being considered for her currently held position. 

at least one of them was right.

So yeah, it’s weird as fuck that they can barely exchange pleasantries now… Weird but not unwarranted.

Alexander tries to shake the image of Eliza’s face— her beautiful, perfect face— going tight and blank, resolute in barricading herself and her emotions away from him— as if he was nothing but a stranger instead of the man she’s been able to call her own for the past eighteen years, married for seventeen of them.

No, Alexander doesn’t let himself think of that because he’ll feel gutted and helpless and so overwhelmingly sad that he won’t be able to go into that conference room and fill his role as Washington’s righthand man.

“What do you know about Senator Monroe, the one who’s joining you guys for the consultation.”

Alexander swallows the lump forming in his throat before he dares answers Angelica.

“Ah, erm decent guy I guess. Pretty liberal on social issues, but a total fiscal republican. A big hawk to, he’s got this thing— The Monroe Doctrine— that he’s been trying to get on the president’s desk for a while now, never makes it anywhere. But he’s nice enough, not totally fake gentlemanly like Jefferson. Why? You think the president wants to nominate him for Defense Secretary once Knox makes his resignation known.”

“No, I don’t think so, that was just for Liza actually.”

Alexander goes still, slowly drags his gaze to her profile in confusion. 

“Why would Eliza care about cabinet positions?” He asks slow.

“Oh, she doesn’t,” Angelica says, blithe as she goes back to whatever she’s doing.

“Then I’m confused.”

Angelica pins him with a one eyed squint.

“What are you confused about?”

“Don’t be fucking dense Ange, we both know you’re better than that,” Alexander most definitely doesn’t hiss.

Her brows quirk up, stunned and elated.

“Oh you don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?”

“Alex, everyone knows,” she cackles, leaning back with her arms crossed against her chest and a smirk playing on the corners of her mouth.

“Know, what,” he says with clipped words, his patience worn thin.

“He’s sent her a bouquet of a dozen red roses, with a cute little compliment attached, for everyday this month. A little too southern genteel for my taste, but between us, I think excluding you Liza’s always liked that. A bit of a Disney princess complex from when we were young, one’s true love and all.”

Alexander doesn’t reply— He can’t. It feels like his entire world has just teetered off orbit. His stomach dropped, and his heart contracts something painful.

“Wh— What?”

She looks at him, a hint of sympathy glittering in her dark eyes.

“Everyone knows, you really didn’t have a clue?”

“No I fucking did not!” Okay, that time Hamilton did hiss. “Is— Is she, like interested?”

Angelica just shrugs, lips pressed together. 

“I haven’t really been able to get a feel on what she’s thinking ever since— Well you know.”

Alexander winces, hates how awful he feels. Hates it even more that he deserves it.

“Sorry, I really didn’t mean anything by it.”

“It’s not your fault,” he says absently. “I’ll see ya later tonight for family dinner at Pegs’s place.”

He doesn’t turn around when she tries apologizing again.

 

~*~

 

Un, deux, trois, quatre.

Alexander is fine. He’s perfectly good. Great even.

Cinq, six, sept.

He is counting like how Eliza’s always taught him, and he is breathing, and he is going into that room— where he will be face to face with fucking Monroe— And he will be fine.

Huit.

He is fine and he will go in there and he will act like a fucking adult and have that meeting and consult with the president and he will be fine.

Neuf.

God damn it, he will be fine.

Dix.

Alexander breathes in one last time and swings open the door… And well, he didn’t expect Monroe’s face to be so god damn off putting.

“You’re fucking courting my wife,” is the first thing he spits out, glaring at Monroe. (He supposes he should be marginally thankful that the German diplomat isn’t here yet, but he can’t even begin to care if he’s being at all honest.)

“Oh, this should be fun,” Jefferson leers, chewing on his gross ass tobacco. 

“Hamilton,” Washington intones, a warning— One that Hamilton decidedly does not take. 

“Excuse me Secretary Hamilton, but I don’t think we should be discussing such personal matters in our current company.”

“She’s my wife you prick,” Alexander snarls.

“Hamy’s mad,” Jefferson says in a singsong sort of voice.

“Shut it ass.”

“Perhaps we should all “shut it” Don’t you reckon secretary Hamilton.”

Alexander ignores Washington for a second time, to which he just roles his eyes heavenwards, and collapses back into his seat, massaging his temple like he’s regretting everything.

“Doesn’t it say in the bible not to covet thy neighbors wife or some shit.”

“Well Secretary,” Monroe clears his throat, as if it pains him how disorderly they’re acting. “I think recent transgressions have rendered that incompatible.”

Alexander clenches down on his teeth, it takes all he has not to pounce from across the table and punch him square in the jaw.

“Stay away from my wife you prick.”

“You’re separated, are you not?”

“A separation isn’t a divorce.”

“It’s not much of a marriage either, now is it.”

Hamilton sees red.

“Gentlemen, I’ll ask you kindly one last time to cut this discussion regarding the daughter of one of my closest confidants, and for you both to collect yourselves.”

“She’s still my wife,” is the last thing Hamilton croaks out before he pivots back on his heals, and scurries out the White House.

 

~*~

 

Their Washington house isn’t exactly a mansion, more like compact with it’s space. Their’s wide partitions that Eliza insisted on, and a decently enough sized backyard with a jungle gym for the younger ones. It’s white bricked and in a neighborhood that people envy. It’s not quite the sprawling land and imposing build that Eliza’s always wanted— what she grew up believing she’d always have, but it’s closer to what she’s always wanted than their Brownstone in Manhattan was, so there’s that at the very least.

She opens the door just as soon as he knocks, as if she was expecting him. (“Maybe it was James that she was expecting,” a not inconsiderable part of his mind taunts.) 

“You’re early,” she tells him, padding back to a table covered in papers and spreadsheets and her laptop. “We made a deal, you get evenings and mornings.”

“I know,” Alexander says, hollow as he shuts the door.

“Then why are you early.” She retorts, lips curled and unrelenting.

“I just— I just wanted to see our kid,” he wonders if she sees the desperation in his eyes… Of course she does, Eliza’s always been the one person in the world who’s always been able to read him without effort. She knows what he’s thinking before alexander does most days.

“Will’s asleep, it’s his afternoon nap. I wanted to get some work done while he was resting, but—“

“I’m early,” Alexander finishes.

She smiles at him like a teacher would a particularly quick student— It doesn’t touch her eyes, and there’s not a dimple in sight, but it still feels like he’s glancing at the face of God. 

“Betsey,” he tries to say but the door bell rings and she’s strutting right past him— He hates how cold she feels.

He doesn’t hear how Eliza greeted the delivery man, to focussed on the bundle of roses she’s gifted. 

“Didn’t tell me you had a secret admirer Bets,” he tries to say without venom.

“As if you don’t know,” she counters with a sniff, filling a cup with water and using it as a makeshift vase. 

“Angelica texted you then?”

“Anne, Gil, Jem, even Jefferson sent me a particularly crude meme.”

“I wish you had told me,” Alexander says, trying for broke.

“It’s none of your business what me or Jem do.”

Alexander’s face goes pained.

“You call him Jem?”

She rolls back her entire head, as if eyes alone weren’t enough to translate her exasperation.

“Everyone calls him Jem, it’s not special that I do. You’ve called him that for years.”

“He’s a fucking prick,” Alexander barks

“He is not,” Eliza laughs with more breath than sound. “You use to like him a lot. Remember?”

“Definitely do not.”

“Yes you do,” she needles, weight slung to one hip and arms crossed. “Lip had just turned seven, and Washington made his intentions for the presidency known, asked you to be part of his staff, so me and you held that gala in that posh hotel near the White House.”

“The Willard,” Alexander nods.

“Mmhmm, and we invited all the republicans to see how to appeal to the other side, and by the end of it you said that Jem was the only one who didn’t make you wanna shoot yourself in the face.”

Alexander just shakes his head slowly, a quiet smile on his lips as he walks closer to her.

“The only thing I remember from that night was that emerald green dress you wore.”

“I hated it,” Eliza huffs, stepping back imperceptibly. “It was to showy, form fitting and strapless, with those damn ruffles towards the bottom of the skirt— Too much.”

“No, no Eliza, never to much.” He tucks a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, soft and reverent. “You were the most gorgeous person their, you always are. I remember how envious people were, that the loud mouth boy wonder was the one who got to hold her and kiss her, and touch her.”

Eliza’s cheeks dust a pretty pink, and she moves away to snip the moment short.

“You liked Jem then, and you’d like him now if—“

“If he wasn’t trying to steal my wife.”

“I’m my own person Alexander, it’s like you keep forgetting that. I was my own person before you, and I still am. I wasn’t born branded with your name tattooed on my ass!”

“Betsey,” Alexander pleads, heart clenched. “I know baby, just.”

“And you know what!” She swivels around so that they’re completely face to face now, expression still painfully indifferent. “Who’s to say that me and Monroe haven’t started something already, that we haven’t slept together in a drunken daze.”

It’s like Alexander can feel it when his insides go to fire, and his throat tightens enough that there’s no room for air to come through.

“I really wish you hadn’t said that.”

Eliza softens, the first real emotion she’d shown him for months. 

“We haven’t— He’s still, erm I guess courting me.”

“Don’t,” he begs. “Please just don’t. Give us a chance.”

“You cheated on me!” She suddenly yells, breaking the silence. She shakes her head and breathes in, gathering her wits.

Alexander feels sick that she has to build up so many walls when around him now.

“Alexander, I did— I gave us a chance and you cheated on me.”

“Eliza, please!”

She holds up a dandy hand in silence, like he was a misbehaving child.

“I’ve gotta finish this before tomorrow. Since you’re off of work, can you be helpful and pick up AJ and Johnny from school? And text Lip, remind him it’s Tuesday so he’s gotta pick Angelica up from her piano lessons, and James from soccer practice. Oh and tell him to pick up dessert from the market for dinner at Peggy’s.”

“I could do that, get dessert.”

“No, we told him that with his new car comes responsibilities to help out around the house. I don’t want him to slack off.”

“Sure, whatever you want Bets.”

She nods, looks at him as if she’s gonna say something, but decides against it at the last moment. 

She collects her work and strolls to the nursery, and Alexander leaves to pick up their sons, feeling even worse than he had when he first came.

**Author's Note:**

> This is trash, and so am I, so it fits
> 
> No but I loved writing this, no shame, lmfao. 
> 
> If anyone left me a comment below letting me know what they thought, I would be so beyond grateful!!!! 
> 
> All My Love  
> ~Len


End file.
